A Lesson In Grandmothers
Not Cinderella related, but have some prose!
"Calpurnia." The girl's accent hung almost as heavy in the air as her perfume, turning the name into something ugly. Rubbing her temples, Calpurnia admitted her guest. "Ma'am," Addy said authoritatively, walking into the madame's office, hips swinging. Attached to her hand was a scowling boy. "Cook says she found Atlas sneaking biscuits." She cast him a smug look. "Again." She was kind of pretty, one had to admit, even with a frumpy nightgown covering her plump form and her hair still up in rollers. It didn't stop her vindictive streak, however. Atlas stood next to her, glowering through dark hair as he tried to pull away his hand.
From behind her desk, Calpurnia sighed and looked them over. As if she didn't have enough on her plate. "Did she really," she muttered dryly, touching the end of one of her pens. "Atlas, is this true?" Her grandson scuffed the detailed rug with his foot, watching as the pattern shifted with his feet. Finally, after an encouraging yank from Addy, he nodded. "Addy, you are dismissed." The rosy cheek opened painted lips to protest, but Calpurnia brushed her off. "I assure you, Adeline, I will punish him as I see fit. Thank you, you may leave." Her tone implied that there would be no arguments, and with a polite curtsy, Atlas's warden trotted out of the room.
Calpurnia sighed again, this time more lighthearted, and set down her pen. "Goodness, glad she's gone, aren't you?" She allowed her grandson a small smile. "Sit down, Atlas." He obeyed, sitting stiffly on the threadbare velvet cushion that adorned his grandmother's high-backed chairs. For a second, Atlas thought he was getting off easy, but her expression grew more serious. "What- can you please tell me- what possessed you to waste your time nabbing biscuits?"
Atlas scowled and crossed his arms, kicking his feet back in forth. "I was hungry. She's not been giving me nothing but-"
"Anything," she corrected.
"Anything but stale bread and sour cheese all week, and all lunch is is a sandwich! That's all I get, you know."
"Well, maybe if you finished your dinner-"
"You don't even eat your vegetables! I watch you up on the high end of the table, and you always pass the bowl. Nasty old Marianne's the only one who even likes 'em, you know. And you never come to dinner, either, anyway! Always up here in your office, ignoring-"
"Atlas, Atlas," she said soothingly, reaching for an ornate box on her desk, "Have a cookie, dear." He eyed her suspiciously, taking one with caution. "Now, I'm sure someone has told you we're on rations right now, and I know it doesn't seem fair, dear, but we need to save the nice food for the guests. You understand, don't you?" Grudgingly, Atlas nodded. "I'll ask Cook to give you something nice with breakfast, how about that? You like orange juice, don't you?" She made a note on one of the many pieces of paper that covered her desktop. Calpurnia was silent for a moment, pen scratching as she took notation. Atlas was about to ask if he could leave when she looked up again.
"Now, about this stealing business." He swallowed as she picked up a ruler, absentmindedly running a finger along its edge. "Atlas, I understand your reasoning, but do you know why you're in trouble?" Atlas kicked his feet.
"Because I took a biscuit," he muttered bitterly, focus locked on the foot of the opposite chair. He jumped when the ruler snapped against the edge of the desk.
"No, you're in trouble because you got caught," she said curtly, giving him a disapproving look. "Frankly, Atlas, I'm disappointed with you. If you're going to steal, at least do your family's name some honor and steal smart." She sighed again, fingers tangled in her fiery curls. His grandmother was the picture of overworked, some nights. "You're dismissed, Atlas. Why don't you make yourself useful and ask Cook to put on some tea? Tell her you're to be given, ah, extra cleaning work and lessons for the next week." He stared at her in indignation, about to protest, when she waved him off with a limp hand. "Tell her that, Atlas. I'm not punishing you. If only my fool daughter hadn't been so stupid, maybe then she could come up with something halfway intelligent. Out, out with you!"
With mixed feelings, Atlas gave his grandmother a short, clumsy bow before leaving, closing the heavy door to her office behind him.
"Calpurnia." The girl's accent hung almost as heavy in the air as her perfume, turning the name into something ugly. Rubbing her temples, Calpurnia admitted her guest. "Ma'am," Addy said authoritatively, walking into the madame's office, hips swinging. Attached to her hand was a scowling boy. "Cook says she found Atlas sneaking biscuits." She cast him a smug look. "Again." She was kind of pretty, one had to admit, even with a frumpy nightgown covering her plump form and her hair still up in rollers. It didn't stop her vindictive streak, however. Atlas stood next to her, glowering through dark hair as he tried to pull away his hand.
From behind her desk, Calpurnia sighed and looked them over. As if she didn't have enough on her plate. "Did she really," she muttered dryly, touching the end of one of her pens. "Atlas, is this true?" Her grandson scuffed the detailed rug with his foot, watching as the pattern shifted with his feet. Finally, after an encouraging yank from Addy, he nodded. "Addy, you are dismissed." The rosy cheek opened painted lips to protest, but Calpurnia brushed her off. "I assure you, Adeline, I will punish him as I see fit. Thank you, you may leave." Her tone implied that there would be no arguments, and with a polite curtsy, Atlas's warden trotted out of the room.
Calpurnia sighed again, this time more lighthearted, and set down her pen. "Goodness, glad she's gone, aren't you?" She allowed her grandson a small smile. "Sit down, Atlas." He obeyed, sitting stiffly on the threadbare velvet cushion that adorned his grandmother's high-backed chairs. For a second, Atlas thought he was getting off easy, but her expression grew more serious. "What- can you please tell me- what possessed you to waste your time nabbing biscuits?"
Atlas scowled and crossed his arms, kicking his feet back in forth. "I was hungry. She's not been giving me nothing but-"
"Anything," she corrected.
"Anything but stale bread and sour cheese all week, and all lunch is is a sandwich! That's all I get, you know."
"Well, maybe if you finished your dinner-"
"You don't even eat your vegetables! I watch you up on the high end of the table, and you always pass the bowl. Nasty old Marianne's the only one who even likes 'em, you know. And you never come to dinner, either, anyway! Always up here in your office, ignoring-"
"Atlas, Atlas," she said soothingly, reaching for an ornate box on her desk, "Have a cookie, dear." He eyed her suspiciously, taking one with caution. "Now, I'm sure someone has told you we're on rations right now, and I know it doesn't seem fair, dear, but we need to save the nice food for the guests. You understand, don't you?" Grudgingly, Atlas nodded. "I'll ask Cook to give you something nice with breakfast, how about that? You like orange juice, don't you?" She made a note on one of the many pieces of paper that covered her desktop. Calpurnia was silent for a moment, pen scratching as she took notation. Atlas was about to ask if he could leave when she looked up again.
"Now, about this stealing business." He swallowed as she picked up a ruler, absentmindedly running a finger along its edge. "Atlas, I understand your reasoning, but do you know why you're in trouble?" Atlas kicked his feet.
"Because I took a biscuit," he muttered bitterly, focus locked on the foot of the opposite chair. He jumped when the ruler snapped against the edge of the desk.
"No, you're in trouble because you got caught," she said curtly, giving him a disapproving look. "Frankly, Atlas, I'm disappointed with you. If you're going to steal, at least do your family's name some honor and steal smart." She sighed again, fingers tangled in her fiery curls. His grandmother was the picture of overworked, some nights. "You're dismissed, Atlas. Why don't you make yourself useful and ask Cook to put on some tea? Tell her you're to be given, ah, extra cleaning work and lessons for the next week." He stared at her in indignation, about to protest, when she waved him off with a limp hand. "Tell her that, Atlas. I'm not punishing you. If only my fool daughter hadn't been so stupid, maybe then she could come up with something halfway intelligent. Out, out with you!"
With mixed feelings, Atlas gave his grandmother a short, clumsy bow before leaving, closing the heavy door to her office behind him.